


Resonance

by Karolina98



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Growing-up, Human Thor, King Loki, Magic, Multi, Mystery, life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karolina98/pseuds/Karolina98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thor is being held by SHIELD after trying to retrieve Mjolnir, Loki visits him. But this time, Loki tells the truth. Things diverge from there: Loki becomes King of Asgard, Thor is stuck wearing Walmart jeans. Loki's heritage is one big question mark and even Thor is unsure of his place in the universe. <br/>Added to all that, there is something out there. Something. </p><p>Other pairings may arise. Other character may pop in. Rating may go up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human Thor

The door closed behind the man with the unnaturally calm demeanour, and Agent Coulson was unexpectedly replaced by his brother.

“Loki, what are you doing here?” Thor questioned, surprised to see Loki in the stark white surroundings, as well as vaguely embarrassed at his current state.

“I had to see you.” Loki murmured, distractedly looking sideways into nothing. He was wearing some very plain clothes, as if he were to go to bed soon.

“What’s happened, tell me, is it, is it Jotunheim? Let me explain to father.” Thor urged, Loki could bring, if not his message, Thor himself to Asgard. He could explain, he could apologise, he could make amends.

“Father sleeps.” Loki interrupts him, his voice harsh. Thor immediately understands that Loki is not referring to the usual nightly rest. Something inside turns cold, quite like his outsides. This mortal form is weary, cold and achy and, most of al weak.

“What?” Thor could scarcely believe it. The Odinsleep was unusual and it was never certain if Odin would awaken again. Loki started to answer, but then snapped his head to the side, as if he had heard an unexpected sound. Thor heard nothing. After a heartbeat or two Loki turned back, took a shuddering breath and started anew.

“Our actions, and the threat of a new war, it was too much for him to bear.” Loki explained, and had Thor been less distraught, he would have noticed the movement of muscle and the slight sound of resentment in Loki’s voice. But Thor was not looking, guilt pressed heavily upon him. There were a few moments where Thor tried to collect himself; he purposely avoided looking at his brother for fear of breaking.

“You mustn’t blame yourself.” Loki said, though the tone was hardly one of comfort. Thor was too shocked and too confused to name the emotion that laced those words. Impatience perhaps. Thor looked up just in time to see Loki look off to the side once more.

“It was foolish of him to leave Mjolnir here, among these mortal vultures.” Loki almost sneered and Thor felt something was off, wrong somehow, but it was hard to tell if it was just the happenings of the past days, or more. “But they cannot move it, nor harm it.” Loki seemed to decide; perhaps he would add some additional magic to dissuade the mortals. Thor was about to mention it, but Loki did not pause long enough. “Leave it be Thor, for they can harm _you_.” Loki continued with unexpected advice.

“I, I...” Thor was about to balk at the suggestion, he was a warrior! Mjolnir was his right, and more, it belonged to him like his arm belonged to him. The mere suggestion he stay away was an insult. But the, blood from the cut under his eye was in his line of sight. He was bruised somewhat fierce he believed; he ached. He was cold and hungry and he longed for sleep. All of that from a fight that had lasted less than five minutes. “Yes. Perhaps you are right.” Thor conceded. “You often are.”

Thor was once more looking at his fists, at his mud splattered legs, if not, he would have seen Loki’s visceral reaction to those words. Loki didn’t speak and Thor felt magic fill the room. He had no aptitude for magic, none whatsoever, but even he felt something was wrong. He was about to ask when Loki spoke.

“The burden of the throne has fallen to me now.” Loki sounded almost mechanical, as if he were reading out loud from a book. Thor was startled, even if he couldn’t think of how else it should be. A small spark of hope lit within his chest. He looked up and met his brother’s eyes.

“Can I come home?” He was not even embarrassed at how small he sounded. There was a pause, and just when Loki seemed to start to speak, Loki’s green eyes snapped up, over Thor’s head. Thor’s instinct made him follow Loki’s gaze and look behind him. He saw a shimmer of Loki’s chambers, the bed, the window. Loki had, in their long lives, often appeared as an illusion to speak to him; to pass information unnoticed and instant, but he had never conjured the surroundings along with him. Or perhaps, Thor realised, was it instead of Loki appearing on Midgard, actually Thor appearing in Asgard? The magic simmered pressingly and.. unhappily, Thor supposed. As far as magic could be unhappy.

“Loki?” Thor questioned when he turned back to face his brother, who looked rather unruffled. But Thor had known Loki all his life, and his brother was concerned.

“My magic..” Loki started, but then made a dismissive motion with his hand. “It matters not. As for your question; I Loki, Son of Odin.” There was an odd tremor in Loki’s voice at those words. Thor couldn’t place it. It was like he should remember something, but he didn’t. “Current King of Asgard,” Loki, King of Asgard. Not Thor and not Odin, it sounded wrong. “hereby lift the Banishment of Thor Odinson.” Thor let out a shuddering breath and he felt like he could weep with the relief of it.

“Thank you.” He sighed; he was filled with a gratitude he was unsure he had ever felt before. He longed to go home, to have a bath and to sleep for a week.

“At any time you wish to return to Asgard, you may call on Heimdall to do so.” Loki said, a choice of words so odd, it pierced Thor’s relief and gratitude.

“I don’t understand.” Thor questioned. Loki looked annoyed, impatient and angry, though not necessarily at him, Thor realised.

“Your banishment is not the same as the spell that made you mortal.” Loki explained. It was true, Thor realised, he was shivering with cold and he ached still.

“Odin’s magic is strong and I cannot break the spell.” Loki seemed pained to admit it. “Yet.” Loki then added defiantly. Thor’s stomach dropped. The realization of it was almost as startling as the banishment in the first place. Thor stared at his hands. They trembled.

“War with Jotunheim is imminent,” Loki continued, sounding distracted and almost worried. “added to that the, _indisposition_ , of the Allfather causes old enemies to rear their heads.” Off course, the Realm was in turmoil now. His doing, his fault. “In your current state you have no magical signature and your enemies could only ever find you by scouring every inch of Yggdrasil step by step. If you were to return to Asgard..” Loki trailed off, and all relief Thor had felt drained from him.

He realised that his banishment had not been his actual punishment, it had, if anything, been a kindness. He was powerless, weak, would not be able to defend himself against even his weakest enemy. Here on Midgard he was, if nothing else, well hidden. Shame, anger, sadness and weariness settled in Thor’s bones.

“It is best if I stay on Midgard.” Thor realized and managed to form the words, even though he didn’t want to. He wanted things to be as before. He wanted to beg his father for forgiveness (but he couldn’t, Odin may as well be dead). He wanted to go home. There was a heavy, dark and rolling silence in the small white room, or perhaps it was the unhappy magic.

“I believe so.” Loki sounded less than certain.

“Well, I have mentioned my belief in your correctness once already today.” Thor had hoped for levity, some small amount of humour, but he sounded completely beaten. “I am sorry. Thank you for coming to see me.” Thor ground out, sincerely. He was sorry. So very sorry. The oppressive silence reigned once more.

Thor stared in the vicinity of Loki’s knees, but even that part was enough to tell Thor his brother was on the verge of something; violent movement or harsh words perhaps. Thor felt like he would welcome anything, even the cruelty Loki was capable of when angered, anything but this promise of ill tidings to come.

“Thor, I must –“ Loki started and the silence, the unhappy magic, seemed to hum with anticipation. But then a crash sounded, and it didn’t come from Thor’s side. Loki snapped his gaze to look into nothing once more.

“Dritt!” Loki cursed. Whatever he could see that Thor could not, it must have been bad and his brother vanished.

He was replaced by the Agent Coulson. It was not a happy trade Thor decided.

 

\---------------------------------

Some lines are taken directly from the movie. 


	2. Chapter 2

“What?!” Loki snarls in the direction of the fallen washing bowl. The metal bowl had acted like a drum and clattered with unholy noise on the stone floor. Lyra could be very clumsy, and he wasn’t sure if her actions were accidental or not. He had just been about to inform Thor of his suspicions. Though ‘suspicions’ was a strong word, he had little but the fact his magic wasn’t responding as it should and some gut feelings.

“My apologies my Prince.” The woman curtsied and avoided his gaze. “My King, I mean.” She corrected and bent down to mop up the spilled water.

“Well take better care in the future!” He snapped at her, though he was more worried about the fact that a servant had entered his room and had, by the looks of it, delivered a very fragrant meal, without him noticing. He must have let her in, there was no way to enter his chambers without his permission, and the idea that he had done so while simultaneously in conversation with his fool of a brother was disturbing.

“Yes my Lord”. She curtsied again and slipped from the room. Loki shook his head in annoyance and walked over to the tray of food. Just as he was chewing his first bite, someone knocked on his door.  _Kill them._  A voice inside his head said with unexpected vigor. Loki gulped down the goblet of wine in response. 

“Mother.” He greeted when he opened the door. Frigga looked sad and drawn. A vague sense of embarrassment slid through him, knowing what he did now.  _Not your mother_. Something dark and dead inside him whispered gleefully.

“Loki.” Frigga cupped his cheek. “They are waiting for you. My son. My King.” He wondered how much she knew, Loki absent mindedly picked at his left wrist. But the Queen-mother looked weary, tired and burdened. He could wait Loki decided, he had waited a long time already.

“Yes.” He bowed slightly and wished he could embrace his mother. He gave the meal a last saddened look and went to meet the Council. Loki, King of Asgard. Someone somewhere was laughing, Loki just knew it.

 ...

But it wasn’t him. For the love of Mercy, he was surrounded by idiots. The combination of sheer stupidity and pretence was more tiresome than a full day battle against a nest of Bilgesnipe. It doesn’t help that he is regarded with suspicion and distaste.  _Crush them. Light them up_. The voice whispers. He doesn’t, but oh Norns, he wants to. Instead he begs them to leave him, concluding the Council meeting. And, if there is any benefit to being King, they do.

He sags unto the throne and twirls Gungnir like a baton. The Spear of Destiny. Loki moves it from hand to hand with abject interest. Not his favourite weapon, a spear. If Thor was less of an idiot would there now be a Hammer of Destiny? Loki wonders. His thoughts are bounding all over. There is something he should remember, Loki thinks. Something he should  _know._ But he doesn’t, and in response his thoughts flit from one subject to the next, getting progressively more ridiculous.

The Throwing Knives of Destiny.  _It doesn’t quite have the phallic connotation_ , another voice of memory mentions, amused. Loki can feel his lips twitch, even though the frustration mounts. What is it? Damn it all, what should he know? He can feel some sort of power press about him. If he had but some peace to figure it out, but he is constantly needed, this time by the Warriors Three.

“Allfather, we must speak with you!” Sif announces as the four of them stride into the room. He can see them freeze with shock and Sif narrows her eyes in suspicion. He sneers, internally he hopes. He remembered having a cordial relationship with the woman warrior once, though he can’t place it in history. Whenever it was, she hates him now.  
               

“Loki.” Sif breathes. “What..?”

“The Alfather sleeps.” He repeats the words he said to Thor. He waves Gungnir and prays to the Norns they need no further explanation. He should test everyone for intelligence and common sense before giving them any position at court Loki thinks. Thankfully the warriors do understand and kneel as one. A warrior’s salute. It is not half as satisfying as Loki hoped it would be.

“My King.” Sif grinds.  _Look at her kneel._ The dark voice then speaks.  _You’re King now, make her –_  the voice suggest something so revolting it startles Loki, more so even than the suggestion that he gut some Duke of the Southern Provinces and string him up with his own intestine. “We ask-“

“Thor’s banishment has been lifted.” He interrupts her. He should have seen this coming; he should have prepared a suitable lie. But he is now faced with Thor’s friends and has nothing but the truth to offer them. The warriors share looks of surprise and turn to the entrance of the throne room. As if Thor were to suddenly appear now.  _Fools._  The voice sneers.

“Thor is better located on Midgard as of now.” Frowns of deep thought show on the warriors’ faces.  _Dimwitted simpletons._  Sif narrows her eyes at him once more and hikes her chin up with a defiant glare.

“So we may see him?” She dares him. Loki glares back at her. A private glare. It is odd to have a woman who once held your heart (and other delicate body parts) in her hands, now sworn to obey you.

“If you must.” Loki relents. “But be aware we set off to Jotunheim in two days’ time. As well as the Dwarven delegation arrives in a week.” He reminds them, much to do for a warrior of the Realm. He knows not why, but it is important Thor stays on Midgard, and he can predict nothing but trouble if the Warriors Three tramp all over the Middle Realm.  The Warriors and even Sif sag.

“Thor may be mortal now, but he will keep a month or so.” Loki tries for comfort, it is hardly his strong suit.

“You have spoken to him.” Fandral realises and Loki nods. He is once more distracted, a strong magical pressure follows him. It is not the same thing as the dark voice with the frankly disturbing suggestions, but it’s  _something_.

“How is he?” Volstagg asks and Loki has to focus his attention on the Warriors again. Loki ponders; how is Thor? He had seemed utterly defeated in the end and the voice had suggested many cruel things Loki could do to his brother (no, not brother. Half-brother? Complete stranger? Had Thor known? Loki doubted it) now that Thor was powerless and Loki felt more powerful he had ever before.

“As well as can be expected.” Loki says, truthfully, and watches as the Warriors slink away with nothing further to say. The magic swirls around the Warriors’ limbs like a lover’s touch, but doesn’t follow them and returns to Loki. Damn it all to Hel, what is it?! What does it want? Loki wishes to lock himself in the library and research this. But others once more vie for his attention and as King he must give it to them.

...

Later that night, or better, very early the next morning Loki wakes in terror. His heart pounds, his muscles are taught and his breath laboured. The fear is almost solid to the touch and quite nearly nauseating, but Loki cannot remember his dream, for that is what it must have been. Loki cannot remember having ever actually been this afraid before, but in his dreams he feels it.

Loki looks down at his hands and realises that he holds a dagger. Looking around the low light he also sees the shimmer of a magical barrier surrounding his bed and a roaring, magical fire in the hearth. None of that was present when he went to bed. Unconscious magic, which is unlikely to the point of impossibility. He has never heard of anyone anywhere doing such complicated spell work as the ward surrounding his bed, while asleep. Not even in the myths.

The dream forgotten, the fear is dissipating quickly, followed by a deep-set worry. In the past few days he has managed to sabotage a coronation, incite a war, get his brother killed (slowly over the course of some decades, but still) and also possibly his father, discovered his life is a lie, become King, be hounded by an unknown force and have his magic fly out of control. Things are going splendidly, really. Loki is no stranger to losing control of a situation, but this is getting ridiculous.

He is also quite hungry he thinks, his thoughts once more running away from him. Every time at dinner when he was about to bring a bite to his mouth some courtier or noble just had to ask him some inane question. His decision to visit Jotunheim in attempt to prevent another war is being quite heavily frowned upon. Many disagree, and in all honesty Loki doesn’t quite understand himself.

He has no love for the Jotnar and if he were honest he could see them all burn (or would that be melt, he wonders distractedly) and walk away. But something, the same thing that has him leave Thor on Midgard (if not for the s _omething_ , he would haul Thor back to Asgard to sit on the throne while Loki investigates this phenomenon, hammer or no hammer), tells him the Jotnar are needed. Asgard needs as many allies as it can get, Loki is sure of it. Still ruling is not nearly as interesting as he hoped it would be.

Then, when he waves the ward away and walks to one of his bookcases, he sees a tray on a side table. It is piled high with food and the cup is still steaming. The worry settles in his bones. He has once again ordered dinner and let in a servant to deliver it to him, without having any memory of this.

Loki slowly curls his left hand in a fist, the one that turned blue. He is, he thinks not without humour, going quite mad it seems. 

 


	3. Mean SHIELD

Early the next morning Thor watched the sun rise over this odd desert land. It was not at all like Asgard, there was nothing but dirt; sand in shades of orange and yellow and red. The air was hot and dry, but when night had fallen, the cold would seep into his flesh. He and Jane had spoken at length about stars and constellations, planets and the heavens, different as they were from this vantage point on Midgard. Jane had eagerly and excitedly taken notes in a brand-new note book.  


He had, at first, taken her acceptance as natural. He was Thor, son of Odin, Prince of Asgard. To doubt his word was an insult of the highest kind, not to mention treason. But after a while, doubt had set in, other than a brief mention of his possible lack of sanity, something that may as well have been a jest, Jane Foster believed. In him, in everything he said. Foolish though that may be.

 

Now, alone in the dark with no company except the sleeping form of Jane, he wondered at her willingness to believe not only his origins, but his explanations of the universe. It hardly seemed _scientific_. An odd word, Thor mulled it over; it was unknown to him and yet, he knew of it. The definition of which did not include simply believing what people said.   


Had a man fallen from the skies in front of his... horse, he supposed, there were no cars (another word that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him) on Asgard and claimed to be Bari, God of the skies and the stars, of travel and light in the darkness, and demanded Thor return him to his seat in the heavens, Thor would have had him locked in the dungeons. Erik Selvig's reaction seemed much more appropriate to his own situation than Jane’s.  


Regardless, Thor took great comfort in Jane's presence, more so than he expected. She, like _science_ and _car_ , was familiar to him, somehow. Her movement and energy, the wonder and excitement she felt for something he found so common; the stars. Also, more disconcerting he supposed, were things like the taste of Jane's skin and the sound of her.. pleasure. They were like memories of the future (he hoped, ye Gods he hoped it lay in his future) and like the press of unhappy magic (though perhaps unhappy was the wrong word) swirled around him at the edge of his perception. Not close enough to grab, to see or to know, but close enough make him wonder. He was distracted from his not entirely unpleasant musings by Jane waking.  


"Oh! I fell asleep." Jane stated and looked around. Her hair was messy and she looked somewhat sleepy. Thor longed to touch her, a longing much stronger than such a short acquaintance dictated. He didn't off course, touch her, he deserved to be flogged if he went around kissing women he barely knew without so much as a hint his affections were welcome. So far his attraction to Jane seemingly lay within his knowledge of planets and stars.

"I'm sorry, I don't really do that." Jane said sheepishly.  


"What, sleep?" Thor teased, it was easy he realised.  


"No!" Jane exclaimed, she flushed and Thor would have sworn on Mjolnir that he had been here, in this moment, with this woman, before. "I mean yes, no!" Jane stumbled over her words and Thor couldn't help but grin. This tiny woman could chase away shadows better than the brightest fire. "I  
mean," Jane collected herself. "I sleep. Just not.. here. Outside. Usually."  
 

"You were perfectly safe." Thor reassured her. "And you looked quite comfortable." He added. Jane looked at him and Thor looked into her dark eyes, and the magic, no longer unhappy, danced and sang around them.

"Yes, I imagine I was." Jane agreed.

...  
  
Later, when he had showered once more, he entered the kitchen rather lost. There were no more clothes that fit him, Jane had lost all her work and, even after last night, seemed very sad when she looked at her one old book and her one new one. Erik looked positively green. Darcy had stumbled into  
the kitchen in bed clothes that swallowed her whole, looked him over once and uttered a 'Huh' full of contempt and sat down with a large mug of coffee. He suddenly felt if not small, rather useless.

After breakfast he followed Jane into her work space and it was wholly empty. Jane seemed saddened by this, which was not entirely unexpected. The room was not very big at all, but the emptiness made it seem that much bigger and Jane seemed small and vulnerable in the middle of it.  


"So.." Darcy had entered behind them. The coffee had seemingly restored her to her previous self. "What are we gonna do?" Darcy had her arms crossed over her chest defiantly.  


"I -" Jane started and twirled in a slow circle, taking in the emptiness once more. "I don't know." Jane sounded small. "Start again I suppose. But.." Jane made a helpless motion with her hands, motioning towards everything that was gone. Darcy looked around and wrinkled her nose.  


"You're gonna have to rebuild all that.. stuff." Darcy agreed. "I mean, do you even remember what and how you built it in the first place?" Darcy asked and Jane glared at the girl.  


"I'm just going to have to start again." Jane sounded determined now.  


"I am sorry, Lady Jane. I have greatly disturbed you work." And life, Thor stopped himself from adding.  


"It's not your fault." Jane said and laid a hand on his wrist. The warmth from her small hand spread and the magic hummed. It was a lie though, a lie only Jane believed. This was quite clearly illustrated by the guilt Thor felt and the snort Darcy let out. "It's SHIELD's fault." Jane declared.  


"Point." Darcy agreed. "Speaking of which, they're still out there." Darcy flapped a hand at the window. It was covered by some sort of drapes, but even Thor knew the shiny black vehicle outside was not there to partake in the breakfast at the Diner. They all looked at the covered window and Jane  
made an unhappy noise.  


"Also." Darcy sighed and seemed to steel herself. "The grant-money has been retracted." Thor did not know what that meant, or the implications thereof, but Jane's reaction was enough.  


"No!" She exclaimed. "Impossible! They can't do that!" Jane looked about ready to charge out and demand her 'grant-money' back.  


"Well, they have." Darcy confirmed and held out a letter.  


"No!" Jane snatched the offending piece of paper out of Darcy's hand and read it so quickly her eyes flicked left to right in an alarming fashion.  
 

"No." Jane almost moaned and sank to the floor. She had apparently not believed Darcy until she had read it herself.  


"Lady Jane!" Thor knelt besides her. "Are you well?" Thor was worried. He himself had never been concerned with money, being a Prince of Asgard, but he knew enough to realise Jane's livelihood had been taken away.  


"I.." Jane breathed heavily. "No. No.. This is my life. This is who I am." She looked up at Thor, confused and shocked and small once more. "We didn't do anything _wrong_."  


"This is my fault." The realisation set in. "I must make this right." Thor didn't quite know how, as last night's defeat still smarted (quite literally he had some interesting purple marks on him). These SHIELD people were many and he was one man alone. One mortal man. Nevertheless he started  
towards the door.  


"NO!" Both Darcy and Jane exclaimed simultaneously. Jane grabbed his hand  
and Darcy danced in front of him.

"Whoa, whoa dude!" Darcy looked at him as if he were a simpleton. Though there was a measure of awe in there as well. "The hell are you gonna do? They're the _government._ "  


"Darcy's right." Jane agreed and Thor felt oddly betrayed. "They can make much more trouble for us than they already have." Jane pulled her knees up and leant her chin on them. "You may go back to Asgard, but I have to live here for the rest of my life." It wasn't a barb as such, but it hurt nonetheless. The magic, the pressure, swirled at the edge of his perception. _Wrong_. It whispered. _Wrong!_ But Thor cared very little for mysterious magic.   


"I can't." Thor spoke suddenly, not meaning to. "I can't go back." Jane whipped around to look at him, pain in her eyes, and even Darcy seemed to deflate. There was a pressing silence that did nothing for Thor's sudden homesickness. He did not want their pity.  


"Oh." Darcy said. "That sucks." Thor frowned. On the one hand he had just said he didn't want any pity, on the other..  


"Darcy, yo-" Jane started, admonishingly, but Darcy ploughed on, forgetting it seemed, anything that had been said in the last few minutes.   


"Well, Jane and I are going to Walmart, you-"  


"No! Darcy, I really do-"  


"Jane!" Darcy overpowered. "We. Are going. To Walmart." Darcy said slowly and clearly while shooting a pointed look at the window from which the SHIELD vehicle could be seen had it not been shielded by drapes. Jane followed Darcy's gaze.  


"Really?" Jane questiond, clearly disbelieving. Darcy waved the letter angrily back and forth. Jane looked at the letter and then at the window. Back at the letter and then back at the window with narrowed eyes. Her colour rose with anger. Were they listening somehow? Thor wondered. From  
Darcy and Jane's interchange, it seemed they were.  


"Yeah, okay, we could use some more pop-tarts." Thor imagined Jane was trying to be nonchalant, but failed rather miserably. Darcy rolled her eyes.  


"Very well, let us go to this Walmart." Thor said, Walmart, apparently, was not conductive to spying magic.  


"No, not you." Darcy gave him a pointed look and Thor felt made small once more. He was not used to this kind of treatment.  


"No, no, he can come." Jane came to his defence and it made feel Thor that much better. It was pathetic really.  


"No, he can't." Darcy stated, giving Jane, Thor and the window an angry look. She continued before an could speak.  


"Don't break anything and don't do anything weird." Darcy threw at Thor and then stalked off, presumably towards her vehicle. Jane's gaze bounced between Darcy's retreating back, Thor and the window, before she gave him a helpless smile, presumably meant to assuage him.  


"Please, make yourself at home." Jane said and then darted off after Darcy. This left Thor standing alone and quite abandoned in the ruin of a woman's life work. A woman he felt almost wholly consumed by, after a mere two days. With all that had happened, he was doing quite spectacularly awful these days.


	4. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does an out-of job physicist do?

By the time Jane entered Walmart the shock had worn off and had been replaced by a low simmering anger. Jane didn’t even know she could get this pissed off, but apparently she could. On the way to town she had tried to talk to Darcy several times, but every time Jane had opened her mouth Darcy had exclaimed to ‘totally LOVE this song!’ and turned up the radio. Darcy had also been compulsively checking the rear-view mirror to the extent that Jane worried that Darcy wouldn’t see what was in front of her. Jane though it was a bit over the top.

But then her cellphone had beeped to tell her about an email. An email that had politely informed her that the Commission of Appleby Grants & Scholarships could no longer continue its sponsorship of Dr Jane Foster, Phd., Phd. and the work thereof. So sorry. Which heralded the official end of her career. Her work was obscure and unpopular and a professor of hers had once stated that ‘there is fine line between genius and insanity, and you Jane, probably fall on the wrong side of that line’. Even without SHIELD she had struggled to get anyone interested in her work. With SHIELD in the picture, she’d never see another dime.

She could try and start a different research project, applying to different grants and do a career switch. Not that Jane had any idea what kind of different project that would be. Or she could teach.

Jane snorted; she’d sooner take a job at McDonalds. She just couldn’t imagine doing any of that. Einstein-Rosen bridges and stable wormholes had been her life for nearly 7 years now. And now it was over. Good God, it just didn’t seem real.

 

………..

 

Once inside Wallmart Darcy ducked between the first rows of shelves (office supplies, haha irony, thank you) and mouths a ‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’ with an almost comically shocked expression. Jane gives a helpless shrug but does not get the chance to speak.

“I mean, I was totally prepared to believe he was just some nutter, but all this craps sorta makes it seem like there’s more to him you know.” Darcy made a good point. SHIELD may be a shadowy government organisation, but they were not being very covert at the moment.

“I doubt the government ruins people’s life work every time they encounter a crazy person.” Jane agrees. Or maybe they do. Jane isn’t very good a keeping in touch with people, but she’s fairly certain a one-time co-worker of hers has disappeared just when he was on the brink of ‘something ground-breaking’.

“Yeah.” Darcy scoffs. “No one would have a job left. Then again,” Darcy says pensively. “That would explain the economy.”

“Not the point.” Jane reminds her. “The point is that my life is ruined just because I hit someone with my car.”

“Which is not entirely uncommon.” Darcy mutters.

“Darcy! Focus!” Jane snaps. “They are trying to erase any credibility I may have had in the scientific community, just because I witnessed an Einstein-Rosen bridge. An actual stable wormhole capable of facilitating interplanetary travel, how amazing is that? I mean, that happened, they can’t-“

“Wait! Wait wait wait.” Darcy interrupts her. “You actually believe him?” Darcy sounds astounded. Darcy is not quite as impressed by the scientific implecations, she never had been. Darcy was the practical one, really.

“Well-“ Jane starts, but Darcy won’t hear of it.

“You really, _really_ really, think Tall, Blond and Ripped is an alien. An alien that fell from a wormhole?” Darcy clarifies. It sounds ridiculous like that, and not just Darcy’s description of Thor.

“You were the one that came up with the whole ‘primitive people may think aliens are Gods’ explanation.” Jane says defensively. It makes sense, Jane thinks, it does.

“Yeah, _hypothetically_!” Darcy throws back. There is long tense pause in which Jane and Darcy look at each other, searching the other for hints. This is only interrupted when a harried looking woman barrels past them towards the printer paper. The moment is gone and Jane steers their cart to Housewares in a huff. She hadn’t expected Darcy of all people to make her feel as if she’s nothing but a silly girl.

 

…………….

 

Jane selects a blow-up mattress and some bedding for Thor in stony silence while Darcy trails awkwardly behind her. Jane has no reasonable explanation as to why she believes Thor’s story. The aliens, the fact he’s a prince of all things, it _is_ crazy. Einstein-Rosen bridges, not as abstract occurrences happing thousands of light-years away, but as real, functional modes of transportation, its insanity. She _should_ disbelieve him. She should laugh and call the loony-bin, but she hadn’t and…

“Darcy, I know him.” Jane tries to explain. Not that she can really. There is just _something_ about the man, that makes her believe him. He makes her feel warm and safe and.. peaceful, Jane thinks. Lunatics wouldn’t do that would they?

“No Jane, you really don’t.” Darcy sounds serious, which is a rare thing, and a little sad. Jane takes a breath to respond but Darcy holds up her hand. “You hit him with your car twice. You had half a conversation with him and then decided to take him out to steal back a magic hammer and then broke him out of government custody when he failed. You had one more conversation with him and now you claim to know him. You don’t, Jane, you can’t.” Darcy says and she is right. Darcy’s right. She’s never met the man before today. All objective signs point to him being a fruitcake. She _has_ barely spoken to him. Jane tries again.

“Darcy. I _know_ him.” Jane tries to put what she knows, perhaps not logically, but certainly truthfully, into that one word. She knows Thor. Knows him like a carrier pigeon just _knows_ where he came from, even if you release him thousands of miles from that point. Knows things about him she never learned. She feels for him, even if she can’t put it into words. She looks at Darcy pleading her to understand. Darcy sighs and switches out the air-mattress for another (That one sucks, she says) and selects a pillow with her back turned to Jane.

“Yeah, okay.” Darcy relents. “I think maybe I do too.” Darcy then admits, though she doesn’t sound happy about it. The implication is clear. Darcy feels connected to Thor somehow as well.

“What?” Jane asks completely taken aback. She would never have expected anyone to accept that reasoning, let alone share in it. “They why did you..?”

“Because sanity, Jane.” Darcy explains as if she’s a two year old. “Sanity. I’m trying to hold on to it.” Darcy shrugs helplessly.

“Yeah.” Jane agrees. “Sanity.” And then laughs.

 

………..

 

 

After the breakfast foods and sodas Jane wanders around the men’s section trying to guess at Thor’s size. He is certainly a large man, she’ll probably bring things with hems and sleeves a couple inches short.

“All of this brings us back to the original question.” Darcy suddenly continues a conversation that ended a while ago. “What are we gonna do?” Darcy asks.

“ _We_ don’t have to do anything.” Jane says, even though it pains her. She doesn’t know the girl all that well, objectively, but they’ve struck up a deep, if a bit unusual, friendship. “I will sign off on your credits and you can go back to college. Graduate, have a life.” Jane offers. She has, for herself, already decided on Thor and all that he will bring with him. Darcy crosses her arms over her chest and raises and eyebrow.

“One, do you think SHIELD will just let me? I tasered him!” Darcy reminds Jane. As if Jane could forget. “Also, a _life_? Really?” Darcy says ‘life’ with such an intonation that it includes all things such as marriage and mortgages. Jane gives her a half-smile, understanding Darcy’s contempt on a visceral level. She’s also insanely grateful, Lord knows Jane needs Darcy. Jane sighs.

“Ok, well,” Jane murmurs, trying to hide her relief. “then I don’t know.” Jane admits. “I could apply for the University of Cologne’s study into the gravitational pull of [Zubenelgenubi](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alpha_Librae) in the Libra constellation.” Jane thinks out loud. It’s not really her thing, but it’s not McDonalds or a classroom either.

“Yeah, uhuh, that was my second idea too.” Darcy waves away. “But my first idea was this one.” Darcy holds out another envelope. Jane takes it and notices it’s made of a heavy cream paper, almost parchment. It’s addressed to her, forwarded from Culver. Jane reads it.

“Dear Dr Foster… blah bah, interested, work in Einsten-Rosen, yada yada, private investment uhuh uhuh, hire with the initial salary of, _holy shit_.” Jane meets Darcy’s eyes.

“This is a joke.” Jane states.

“Nope.” Darcy counters.

“Then this is SHIELD trying to do more spying.” Jane concludes. The pay is unusually high, they are offering to pay Darcy as well and unlike official government grants and universities, they get no benefit from hiring her, no mention of rights to patents etc.

“Nope, they’re legit.” Darcy states. “They, that is, this absurdly rich family business does this more often. They have this dude studying alchemy, and some other dude studying telomere regeneration and nano-technology and this chick that looks into regenerative plants. All the crazy stuff, really.” Darcy explains. “Though, as you can see in the letter, they reserve the right to retract all funding if they think you’re going actually loopy.”

Jane looks at Darcy with new eyes.

“How do you even know that?” Jane asks. “This letter only just arrived.” Jane scans the letter. “Two days ago.” Huh, that means it would have been written before Thor had even arrived. Not SHIELD then. But with what has been happening, when would Darcy have had the time to enquire?

“I checked.” Darcy holds up a particularly ugly bikini top and studies it intently.

“Checked how?” Jane queries.

“On the computer.” Darcy says, an odd turn of phrase really.

“On the computer?” Jane asks, but then lets that sink in for a few heartbeats. “You hacked them.” Jane realises. “OMG, you _hacked_ them?!”

“Hacking is illegal.” Darcy states holding up another bathing suit that is perfectly sized for Jane if she were twelve.

“Shit.” Jane breathes. “You’re a hacker. You hack… things.” Jane tries to wrap her head around that. “You’re in political science though.” Jane thinks out loud.

“Yeah.” Darcy says. “Computer science would be _way_ too obvious.” Darcy abandons her bathing suit distraction. “Also, what would I learn? Anyway, I just took a whole bunch of classes and PoliSci just came up.” Darcy explains.

Jane needs to think about that for a moment. Darcy is a hacker and is hardly as flighty as she often seems. After all, ever since Darcy has been her intern bills have gotten paid on time, food has always been available, there was always gas in the tank an such things Jane always forgets. Also, her handling of SHIELD was unexpected. But why Darcy would _want_ to work for Jane is beyond her. It’s not even paid.

“Wait, did you hack me?” Jane asks, after all, how did those bills get paid? Darcy doesn’t speak for a minute.

“Jane, why would I hack someone just so that I would be the only applicant for an unpaid internship with some crazy doctor in the Middle of Nowhere, NM? All on some vague gut feeling that that was where I needed to be?” That was actually not what Jane had been thinking of, but it did make her think. How _had_ Darcy been the only applicant? “Well,” Darcy concludes. “That would just be crazy.” Jane stares and gets the sudden urge to hug Darcy.

“Yeah.” Jane agrees. “Crazy.”

“Ooh! Look at the cute Pyjamas!” Darcy changes the subjects suddenly and bounces away, leaving Jane with her thoughts. Jane follows Darcy as she finishes up the shopping for a few minutes before speaking.

“So this offer, it’s true?” Jane asks.

“Yeah.” Darcy confirms. “Fucking creepily well-timed and plain _weird_ , but true.” Jane stares at the letter and reads it again.

“Huh.” Jane mutters then to herself. “Canada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I really like reviews :)


	5. Frigga, Allmother

Attempting peace with Jotunheim had been a bad idea. This had been thoroughly proven now. Loki was rather unhappy about it. His distaste for the Jotnar bordered on disgust, but he strongly felt he _needed_ the allies. A week in office and he was suddenly painfully aware on how much Asgard _wasn’t_ liked.

There was only one was to travel between the Realms, the Bifröst, and only Asgard had knowledge of it. Loki grew up on stories of inter-planetary trade and cooperation, but realised he saw very little of it in reality. Some other Realms had their ways of travel, but often took immense amounts of magic or extremely powerful artifacts, not something that could be wasted on a trip to trade some Oliphant skins. There were also the Shadow Paths, but he knew of two, maybe three people that could navigate them. Loki being one of them.

The people in court hadn’t gotten any smarter, or less sycophantic, but Loki was paying more attention to underlying currents. Only the Dwarves and Vanir had delegates on Asgard, the Elves and the Muspeldanir did not seem to be interested in contact with Asgard at all, the Jotnar want to kill them all, as his recent trip had proven, and the Midgardians didn’t believe in the existence of any of the above. _That will change_. Loki thought.

There once had been more contact, Loki knew this. The Glass Tower was almost wholly a Muspeldanir construct. Elven and Dwarven goods had been common once had they not? After all how did one get the title defender of the Nine Realms when they only ever spoke to two of them?

 It was hard to research, not just because of a lack of time, but also a lack of material. There were many books on magic and the study thereof, there were countless stories of battles in which the hero, his conquests and victories remained the same, but enemies, dates and location seemed to be interchangeable. There were books on foreign languages and even some trade, but Loki had found not one decent history book.

Maybe the Aesir lived too long to bother with recording their own histories, but it was entirely frustrating for those that did not have a memory spanning the past three millennia or so. When did Alfheim close their borders? Or had it been Asgard that stopped lending the Bifröst out? Were there any people living on Niflheim? Many considered it empty, going so far as to call it the realm of the dead. Why had no one gone to Svartalfheim in the past 7 millennia?

Well, it hardly mattered, Loki thought, he _would_ unify the Realms so that when the time came they would all fight.. what, really? Loki knew something, someone was coming, and it was bad. But like the vague memories of things that never happened and the press of a force he couldn’t quite perceive, he couldn’t say what it was. He _should_ know, he really should, and every time Loki had time to think about it, he got increasingly frustrated and the dark voice would get revved up and suggest things of such appallingness that it put Loki off his dinner. A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

“Mother.” He greeted as he opened the door. “Have I made you proud?” He asked sarcastically. The trip to Jotunheim had been an unmitigated disaster, there had been no talking and several warriors had been lost. Frigga took his hands in hers and looked up at him earnestly.

“Yes.” Frigga said and Loki honestly had not expected that. “I think your intentions to unify the Realms are commendable and should be regarded with the highest respect.” Frigga seemed to mean all of it. The praise was faintly embarrassing and Loki turned away to pour them both a drink.

“Laufey is dead.” Loki said, his back still to his mother _Not your mother_ the voice reminded him. _Shut up_ he snarled back for the first time, startling himself. He turned to Frigga and handed her the glass. “I killed him.” Frigga closed her eyes for a long second and cupped his cheek to rest her forehead to his.

“Loki..” She breathed his name. There was a war going on inside him. He wanted to know, he needed to know, he _deserved_ to know his origins, but no blame lay with Frigga and he did not want to hurt her. In the end his need won out.

“He was my father.” It was half a statement, half a question. Frigga takes a shuddering breath.

“So the Allfather claims.” Frigga confirms. Technically he is the Allfather now, but he can forgive his mother for not thinking of her son as ‘Allfather’.

“Claims?” Loki cannot keep his voice down.

“Hmm.” Frigga confirms before downing her glass and walking to the window to look at the stars with her back to him. Loki lets her. “I have always felt that he made you Odinson because that is exactly what you are.” Loki can hear his heart beat and feels is stomach drop. Tyr was born just a few months after Odin and Frigga got engaged. Loki was born long after Odin and Frigga had been married.

“Mama.” Loki starts, but cannot think of more to say. Betrayal. Still, he is a selfish man and he cannot stop his next words. “You are not sure?”

“No.” Frigga states firmly. “You are my son. Our son. My love for you is equal to that of all my children. I need know nothing else.” The conversation is over; Loki can feel it in the air. Frigga will not tell him more, but she has already told him more than he could hope for.

“What happened on Jotunheim today was unfortunate.” Frigga turns back to him. “Do not let it dissuade you.” Loki tries to speak but has nothing to say, he only nods. Frigga turns to leave, but she pauses. “We need our allies.” Loki’s heart nearly explodes. It is not just him. He is not entirely mad. There _is_ something there.

“W-what?” He asks tentively, Frigga was known to sometimes See.

“I do not know.” Frigga says, there is a hint of frustration in her voice and Loki feels less worried than before. “We will know, my son, we will know.” He is granted a reassuring smile before she leaves him to his peace.

“Oh, and I ordered you dinner. You don’t eat enough!” Frigga leaves him with those parting words.

 ............

The servant is back, the one that dropped the bowl. This time he does notice her coming and allows her entry. She carries the tray in and places it on the table he motions at.

“Your Highness.” She curtsies and turns to walk away. She often refers to him as such; it is not common practice on Asgard, though technically a correct way to speak to him. She walks out briskly, but is apparently quite clumsy as she trips. Out of instinct he grabs her to keep her from falling and his hand closes around her bare fore-arm.

Her skin has an odd texture, like a piece of wood that has been sanded so thoroughly not even a piece of silk would catch on it. Soft and yet very firm and it shines a dull gold. His fingers slot neatly between four bony outgrowths on the inside of her forearm.

“You’re hurting me.” Lyra says, but Loki barely hears her. He watches their arms with a mixture of abject horror and fascination. It’s his left, and now, instead of turning blue, his skin takes on the same faint glow as Lyra’s and an equal four bony bumps appear along his radius. No, no, no! What is this! In a single grasps any comfort received from Frigga’s words were erased.

“Does it hurt?” Lyra then asks and it startles him. It is a completely unexpected question and not something that even occurred to him.

“No.” He says evenly and he releases her arm. She flexes it and he sees three dull metal studs between the bumps. Then they both watch as the bumps on his arm retreat and his skin returns to its usual pale pink. Lyra seems less shocked then he is, she’s just about to take her leave he sees. Completely unruffled.

“Where are you from?” He asks. She looks mostly Aesir, but the Aesir have no bumps on their arms, or, he notices now that he studies the woman closer, on their temples along their hairlines. Her skin is also other, both the faint glow to it and the texture. For the these same reasons she can neither be Vanir of Midgardian.

“Many places.” Lyra shrugs and he can tell she wants to leave. Still he _needs_ to know. Muspeldanir? Doubtful. Dwarven?  Equally unlikely. The Svartalver have been eradicated for eons now, so not them. Not Jotnar, certainly. Loki wasn’t sure anyone actually lived on Niflheim. The Aesir didn’t go there and if there were… Nifl people… they did not come to Asgard. But as he had recently research the foreign politics between Elves and Aesir was one of mutual avoidance.

“Who are your parents?” Loki presses. Lyra bites the inside of her lower lip; she doesn’t want to speak of this. “Tell me.” He commands, not entirely unfriendly. Lyra blows out a breath.

“My mother was common as dirt.” She says with an apologetic shrug, perhaps to her mother. He recognises a much used barb when he hears one. “My father was a Duke.” She says on a laugh, clearly disbelieving. But it makes sense to Loki. It makes her the unexpected bastard of an alien official and probably a servant. _A mutt_. The voice sneers. But it doesn’t bring him any closer to what he wants to know. He studies her and she is less uncomfortable than he would expect.

“Your eyes. They were black before.” He notices. It is not until she replies; “No Your Highness. They have always been green.” That he realises he spoke out loud. He feels an embarrassed flush creep up.

“How did you come to be here?” He asks to mask his mistake. Not that it matters, he just wants to know her species, but considering both her parents are dead, he can never be sure. 

“I’m a good cook.” Lyra says and Loki follows her gaze to the tray.

“Yes.” He agrees, having nothing more to say. She knows not her origins.

“Your highness.” Lyra curtsies and turns to leave his chambers. Then, in a split second, he sees a woman walk before him in a gown made of what seems like smoke and black diamonds, displaying sinful curves. The woman half turns, smiles and holds wicked invitation in her black eyes. Lust suddenly courses through him in an unexpected tidal wave. The vision dissipates quickly and all he sees is the servant in a dull grey, shapeless dress who can’t wait to be away from him. The lust and the memory remain though.

 ...................................... 

Later that night he once more wakes from nightmares. He vaguely remembers falling. The dark voice and very little else. His unconscious magic has once more done all it could to protect him. Loki falls back on his pillow not bothering to undo any of it. Yet he cannot sleep. Too much has happened. He has learned too much and yet not nearly enough. Decision made Loki waves the wards away, makes himself invisible and strides away.

He arrives at his father’s chamber without notice and is glad his mother is not at Odin’s bedside. There is something quite morbid about the way Odin sleeps a sleep he may never awaken from. _Kill him. Crush him_. The voice whispers. _It would be easy._

“I imagine you have no intention of waking up any time soon.” Loki speaks into the silence. Most say Odin is aware in this state, and Loki is fairly certain Odin has no intention to step into the mess the Realms are in now. The press of evil to come. The deplorable state of inter-Realm relations. Loki’s heritage and subsequent rage.

“Yet I urge you to hurry up, old man.” Loki cannot keep the rage out of his voice. “You owe me more answers every day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to let me know what you think :)


	6. Lost Thor

 

Thor was restless, 'antsy' Darcy had called it. He had not understood what she meant by that, but after her explanation: 'It's like you have bugs crawl all over your skin, you just want to jump up, run around and go: huaaargg!', Thor felt it was an apt description. He did want to jump, to run, to fight; he wanted to _do_. He may be a Prince, but he was a warrior first. Unfortunately there seemed to be little actual _doing_ going on on Midgard.

There were certainly not fights, either to train or against real enemies and Thor's muscles crawled in anticipation. He had helped an older man move some furniture just get some movement. The furniture had been heavier than expected, but the chore, simple as could be, had brought him more pleasure than the endless free time in the desert. 

After Jane and Darcy's council at Walmart, they had returned not only decided, but with supplies. Thor was gifted with new clothing and bedding and though grateful, he could not escape the feeling that he was treated somewhat like a child. He was also suddenly aware that he had nothing to pay for these thing. Their quality left things to be desired, but he was certain they had not been free. Also, a plan had been hatched quite without his input, which did not aid his discomfort at al. He was used to being the one everyone asked for an opinion.

His insignificance was truly driven home when Erik Selvig had mentioned that "off course Thor was not expected to come with them. At all. He was free to go where he pleased. Quite free. To go elsewhere." Thor had been quite surprised at those words; he believed he and Erik Selvig had come to an understanding, but it was clear the older man wanted him gone.

Later, after plans has been laid to travel to 'Nova Scotia', where Jane would continue her research, Thor had asked after Erik's change of opinion.

"I think you're a good man Thor. But I don't think you're good for Jane and that girl is like a daughter to me." Erik had explained. "The world's a big place and I think it would be better if you and Jane occupied different spaces in it." Erik was clear and did not encourage any affection between them it seemed. Again, it was not something that happened to him. 

"I would never hurt Jane!" Thor had been offended thoroughly and was about to call Selvig out on it when the older man continued.

"No, you wouldn't harm her." Erik sighed. "Hurting her would be unavoidable." Thor didn't understand and Erik must have noticed. "You, you claim to be a _god."_

"Nay, not a god." Thor said, he was not a god, but once the Midgardians had believed him to be. 

"Thor, God of Thunder." Erik stated but did not give Thor to confirm or deny. "And I'm sure you believe you are, but, but Jane..." Erik seemed to deflate suddenly, he looked sad and angry and frustrated, quite like Thor felt. "But," Erik dragged a frustrated hand through his hair. "dissuading you, both of you, from _this,_  is impossibleit seems _."_ Erik made an encompassing motion with his hands when he said _this_ , it was laced with frustration and Erik abruptly turned away, kicking at the leg of a table on his way out. Thor was thoroughly confused, a common state lately. He didn't like it.

.....................................

But it had all concluded in Erik, Darcy, Jane and Thor dividing themselves and their possessions between the two vehicles and setting off, Erik would be getting off after two days travel to go back to his own work and Jane, Darcy and Thor would continue on to a town called Sheet Harbour. The strange electricity between Jane and Thor remained and Thor was often in a heightened state of awareness around Jane, but these moments were often evening moments outside, the actual trip was hellish.

Jane drove the large vehicle (Winnie, apparently it was called.) that reminded Thor of a small hut on wheels and Darcy followed them in her smaller vehicle. There was little to do inside and Thor found he could not read the books that were available. He could vaguely remember his brother telling him the Allspeak was just that and not the 'Allread' (as it did not translate written text), but he had to admit he hadn't paid much attention to Loki's words.

Jane was an attentive listener when he spoke, but sometimes so attentive she would make mistakes in her driving, causing Darcy to create loud noises behind them. Also Jane seemed to be made for movement and thought and not the mindless driving, making her more annoyed and snappish as they travelled on.

Added to that, they would all sleep together inside 'Winnie'. Jane and Darcy would share the big bed, Erik slept on the pull-out sofa and Thor slept on his 'air-mattress', a strange but intriguing invention, on the floor. There was no real space, as when Darcy had to use the bathroom at night, she would step over him, prompting Thor to wake ready to battle his enemies, only to find Darcy with sleepy eyes and hair like a thundercloud. The situation was oppressive to the extent that Thor was continually on edge, always a little bit angry, and permanently ready for a fight. When Erik left, Darcy moved to the sofa and Thor stayed on the floor.

Thor was unable to live like this. The Aesir lived communal lives. They spent their time in large halls and training areas. Friends, family and neighbours lived, worked and had their meals in large groups, in public halls. But they would, at night, retreat to their own sleeping areas. Privacy was incredibly highly valued and only the very poor and the very young had no space just to call their own. Even on campaigns Thor had never slept this closely to others. Their movements and their breathing; Darcy muttered in her sleep and Jane moved around continuously as she did awake as well, it kept Thor from sleeping. At last he took his air-mattress and blanket outside and slept under the stars.

On one such night, he could not always sleep outside, as there were other people (so many other Midgardians, the sheer amount of them was mind-boggling) and other vehicles he might be in the way of, but he though Darcy, who was the route-planner, made sure to stop in secluded places as often as she could, he woke without realising why. It was not, as usual, Darcy's mid-night trip to the tiny bathroom, or Jane hitting a wall during her sleeping exercises, it was someone else entirely.

"Mother!" Thor scrambled upright. "What are you doing here? It is very late, what is wrong?" Thor's mind raced. War with Jotunheim? Father?

"It is but mid-day on Asgard." Frigga said. "And can I not wish to see my son?"

"Off course." Thor let out a sigh of relief, he approached her, but when he stretched his hand towards hers, it passed right through. Frigga gave him a sad smile.

"Heimdall gave word of how the mortals reacted to the Bifröst." Frigga nodded to Winnie, in which Darcy and Jane still slept. "I thought it best not to alert them once more." Thor thought it was more Mjölnir that attracted them then the Bifröst, but he refrained from stating as such.

"How is father? How is Loki, the Warriors Three? The Realm?" It had been almost two weeks since he had heard of Asgard and Thor was surprised at his hunger for knowledge.

"Odin remains as he was." Frigga informs him, her eyes clouded with grief and maybe something else, but it is too fleeting for Thor to name.

"You must hate me." Thor realises, looking away.

"No! No, no, my son." Frigga starts forward, but her hands pass through once more. "Off course I do not hate you. My dear son." Frigga reassures him. "Your actions and decisions may have been.." Frigga searches for a word.

"Stupid? Foolish? Selfish?" Thor suggests and Frigga's lips twitch.

"Unwise." Frigga decides. "But Odin is old." It is no secret Odin is quite a bit older than Frigga and that Odin has extended his life-span beyond the norm due to the use of the Odinsleep. "And he alone is ultimately responsible for his…" Frigga pauses once more in search of a word. "Inaction." There is bitterness there Thor realises. What must it be like for your spouse to sleep at unexpected times for an unknown amount of time to ascertain a longer life? Thor has never spent much time thinking about his parents' relationship, but it was now clear it was not prefect.

"But Loki does well I daresay." Frigga continues more cheerful. "His first attempt at peace with Jotunheim did not go as well as he hoped, and Laufey is.. dead." Frigga relates. Dead?! Not as well as hoped?! Thor is shocked from his musing on his parents' relationship with this strange news. "But it seems Laufey was not the king he once was." Frigga continues without noticing. "The southern lands as well and the western isles are beholden to Queen Berenganya now and Loki has achieved some, interesting, results with her." Frigga seems quite pleased with this. Thor knows not what to think.

"Interesting?" He questions. Interesting is a dangerous word in relation to his brother. Frigga laughs lowly and her dark mood has lightened.

"They 'bicker like an old married couple' in Fandral's words and they often meet without escorts, but the results are promising. We may soon have snow-thread on Asgard once more." Frigga announces happily. Thor is even more confused. Bickering? Loki having private assignations with a Jotun queen? Laufey, the monster under every child's bed, dead? His thoughts run wild, but all Thor can say is:

"Snow-thread?"

"Oh yes. It's a thread, not actually made of snow, but similar in structure. It used to be one of Jotunheim's greatest exports, along with Eternal Ice." Frigga explains and Thor realises he knows very little about Jotunheim. They were enemies and monsters for all his life and yet his mother seems inordinately pleased at the prospect of trading with the Jotun. Again, if he reads her words correctly.

"Ah." Is all Thor can say.

"He is also trying better relations between the Vanir and Asgard and your friend Hogun has gone home as a sort of ambassador now. The same intentions towards the Dwarves, this has also been interesting." Frigga is amusedThor sees and he realises the term 'interesting' is used more traditionally in regards to his brother here. Things may have exploded.

"Oh." Thor says.

"Hogun and Volstagg were injured during the first visit to Jotunheim, but not life-threatening. Fandral often accompanies the Dwarven delegates and they seem to quite like him. Hogun, as mentioned has returned to Vanaheim and the lady Sif heads the escort that accompanies the King on Jotunheim." Frigga brings more news, seemingly quite pleased.

"And my old friend Volstagg needs some time to recuperate from his wounds, which he does in close proximity to the palace kitchens." Frigga smiles fondly. "He, as well as many older merchants and soldiers, is also pressed by Loki to remember what he can of our past relations with Muspel en AlfHeim." Frigga is genuinely happy and proud of Loki and Thor is somewhat resentful. Not because Loki is doing so well, but maybe because he, Thor, the Golden Prince, seems quite superfluous. He is not needed at all. The Warriors have battles to fight and apparently missions to complete. Loki is a good King. Frigga is happy. Everyone is well sorted, except Thor.

Thor is quite useless, he has no tasks to fulfil, and he is continuously cooped up, constrained and _antsy_. He cannot read and even though he enjoys his talks with Jane, he already has little else to tell her. He simply never spent that much time considering the planets or the stars, let alone the universe. His is travelling, but unlike horseback riding, it is entirely passive. He is, the realisation has been setting in for some time, quite lost.

But he tells none of this to Frigga, instead he talks about Jane and her work, what he knows of it at least. He speaks of Darcy, who combines her brash personality with unexpected kindness. And he talks of Midgardians in general. Of all the things he does not understand, and Frigga listens and laughs and makes Thor feels so much better. Part of him wishes he was once more a little boy and he could simply watch her spin and listen to her stories all day.

Then, suddenly, the same things happens as what happen when Loki came to see him. Suddenly it is as if it is not Frigga on Midgard, but Thor in her Solarium. His vision is blurred, but he sees his brother's outline striding towards Frigga and then she is gone. Thor feels he loss keenly.

The magic pushes its way into the foreground, once more unhappy and in the distance thunder rolls. Not him, he is mortal, but the magic itches on his skin and he moves his bed inside Winnie. He himself stands outside and lets the rain wash him clean, somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	7. Servants

Loki had been summoned to his mother’s chambers. Technically he has been requested, but as she’s his mother, it still feels as if he’s a little boy. When he gets there, a lady tells him his mother is still occupied and he is made to wait. Being King, it does not change anything really.

After a while he becomes impatient and pushes past the lady in waiting into his mother’s Solarium, she had asked for him after all. What he saw filled him with dread.

“Mother!” he exclaims and rushes towards her. Frigga turns.

“I was only speaking with your brother.” She scolds him. “There is no need to storm in here.” But Loki barely hears her words.

“Your hands.” He breathes, they are see-through, insubstantial. As the entirety of Frigga had been not moments before. A simple projection was not supposed to do that. Had never done that. Frigga followed his gaze and steel appeared in her eyes. She flexes muscle and makes a fist, once, twice and her hands solidify. They say nothing for a long time.

“Have you discovered anything?” Loki then asks. After he knew Frigga also felt something, something coming, he had been equal parts relieved and worried when she dug into research the way he could not. Frigga links an arm through his, it is warm and solid and real, and smiles at him. A smile that gives no clue as to the worrying events that just happened.

“No news, I’m afraid.” She says, walking with him, steering him lightly to her gardens. “A spell like your brother’s is neigh impossible to break outside its intended solution.” Yes, Loki knew this; if a spell has an obvious way to be broken, breaking it in any other way was extremely hard. 

“It’s a hammer.” Loki grouses. “What does a hammer know of worth?”

“I wish I knew.” Frigga sighs and her worry for her son is plain. Neither Frigga nor Loki had even managed to even budge Mjolnir. “And I have read many stories, but people seem to be either ‘worthy’ or not, I have yet to read about one who wasn’t but later became so.” Frigga was too much of a Queen to sneer at the word ‘worth’, but she had never made it a secret she did not believe in Mjolnir’s divine right to decide a person’s worth. Loki didn’t respond.

“Also, prophetic dreams and the occasional vision into the future are common enough, but they are singular events. Not a constant stream of information of things to come. Not that I would classify this as information.” Frigga sounded grumpy. Loki had to agree, this, whatever this was, was more a lack of information. As if his insides knew something his outside did not.

“Our magic is increasing though.” Frigga said, Loki gave her a noncommittal hmm. She said ‘our’, but she was clearly more worried about him. She had mentioned the increase in his seidr more than once. It seemed to have doubled, tripled over night. But, from what he had just witnessed, it wasn’t just him.

“But you seem to be doing well.” Frigga changes the subject cheerfully. “How did you know about Queen Berenganya? Did Huginn and Muninn tell you?” Frigga teases him, humour alight in her eyes.

“No, as you well know.” Loki pretends at offense, but cannot help a smile. “They are Odin’s constructs, and it’s not at all unusual for a magical construct to respond only to its creator.” Loki lectures primly; they are both keenly aware that it bothers him that the blasted ravens all but ignore him.

“Off course.” Frigga indulges.

“A servant told me.” Loki says. He had been thinking out loud in his study and had been pacing. He had nearly tripped over a redheaded servant scrubbing his floors, one he did not recall granting access to his rooms. The redhead had skittered outside his reach, apologising, and managing to combine extreme enthusiasm with appropriate deference. On her was out she had mentioned Queen Berenganya of the southern lands.

He didn’t remember ever seeing so many servants before in his life. Intellectually he knew they were legion in the castle, but he’d rarely seen them and spoken to them even less. When he saw the red-head again, she was polishing wood, he asked her more about what she knew of Jotunheim. She had a smile so wide it made his jaw ache and a very excitable personality, but she gave a decent description of Berenganya’s lands and court. He had checked this with his own scrying and it seemed all true. It was an odd thing, but he had decided to go with his instincts. So far it was paying off.

“A servant?” Frigga wonders. “How odd.”

“Yes.” Loki agrees. It was odd, but so were many other things. “I must go.” He took his leave of this mother. “Please be careful.” He shot a pointed looks at her hands.

“I’m always careful.” Frigga lied.

 

……………………………………………………………..

 

“What do you know of the servants?” The question escaped Loki more than he had planned on asking it. He did want to know more about the servants around the castle, but, seeing as he had lived there for over a millennium and had never thought to ask before, it was quite an odd thing to ask he felt. Still Haakon, who had been his personal valet since Loki could remember and also the only servant Loki could remember ever noticing up until the last month or so, remained stoic as always.

“Which servants?” Haakon questioned. Loki paused, how to describe them so that Haakon would know which he meant, but not implying any particular interest?

“There is a girl with red hair.” Loki started. In truth she was little more than a child and her hair so violently red that Loki was certain it must be a glamour. “Also a woman who serves me dinner. I do not think I have seen her before.” Norns Loki hoped that was true, for all he knew Lyra had been around for eons. He had never paid attention to servants before and they _were_ meant to be practically invisible. Haakon pursed his lips, the most expression that came from the man. He would be set for a moon now.

“It is the change in you wards My King.” Haakon started.

“Excuse me?” Loki questioned, there was no change in his wards. They had been the same ever since his mother had taught him how to raise them. Loki had specifically checked his wards several times over the last month, trying to find out how food appeared. The wards were specific; no one could enter while he was inside without his permission, with the exception of Frigga and Thor. While he was away the castle-bound servants could enter, but not take anything away unless he specified.

“Indeed, the rooms now remain sealed to all but those without even the faintest trace of seidr.” Haakon explained. “I understand your need to keep out magic users, but they can hardly be _discreet_.” Haakon sniffed, but Loki was hardly listening. For one, it explained why he suddenly noticed the servants if before they had remained hidden with house-hold seidr. For another; those without any seidr were extremely rare. Even warriors and those without any magical knowledge would have _some_ minor or innate magic. Loki was surprised they had managed to find any servants to clean his chambers at all. Nor had he known Haakon was one of them.

“Hmm, it is hardly a bother.” Loki lied, but it was best if Haakon believed the new wards were of his doing. “But tell me more about them.”

“Ah.. what do you wish to know My King?” Haakon seemed to be somewhat nervous.

“General information.” Loki pressed, especially heritage he thought.

“Well, Elsa is the granddaughter of Harald the Merchant.” Haakon started, the name meant nothing to Loki. “He has a daughter by a Muspeldanir.” Haakon made his distaste clear. “From when he was still in trade with Muspelheim. The daughter is unmarried, a seamstress and the mother of Elsa. Hardly proper, but not dangerous at all.” Haakon sniffed and his mouth curled in distaste. Interesting, it wold explain the red hair, Loki thought. Her background in trade explained her above average knowledge about other Realms. It fit quite neatly.

“And Lyra?” Loki asked, momentarily forgetting he didn’t want to seem too interested. Haakon looked constipated.

“She came to the castle about two moons hence and applied for work in the kitchen. Her skills were quickly noticed and she was promoted to cook.” Haakon supplied to bare minimum of information.

“What are you not telling me?” Loki asked low and dangerously. Haakon swallowed.

“My King, we have taken all possible precautions.” Haakon tried for reassurance, but only succeeded in making Loki more suspicious.

“What?” Loki growled. Haakon deflated.

“We traced her as far as Älghamm, not four moons hence.” Haakon started. “According to the guards, she came along the Eastern road, but neither Bäralund or Laksjøen had ever heard or seen her. She worked in the inn for a while and then hitched a lift with a trader called Igrn to the Capital.” Haakon finished. Wonderful, mysterious woman appeared from the woods and decides to cook him meals. Perhaps there is quite a good reason he is going mad.

“And she has never once mentioned her origins?” Loki asked.

“No.” Haakon confirmed. “She has remained quite mum about the subject, answering in only the vaguest terms. Though it is clear she is not Aesir.” _Yes, thank you, you idiot._ Loki knows that much. “I have observed her myself, My King, and she keeps to herself, often spending her free time in the stables with the horses and the dogs. She likes to swim.” Haakon managed to deliver his proof of spying on a young woman going for a swim with a completely straight face. It was interesting information though. The Aesir couldn’t swim, as they were too dense to float, nor did the dwarves. It provided more clues as to what Lyra was.

“She spends time in the library, though Hilde, the librarian seems to think she cannot read High Capital.” Haakon continued. “She draws landscapes and is a terrible seamstress. She eats a bit of all she cooks and an einherjar accompanies her when she goes to serve you, My King.” Haakon finishes. Loki wishes him gone so he can think about this. He is less than happy about the fact that he is being served food by a woman no one seems to know, but he agrees silently that she does not seem dangerous. He waves Haakon away. He needs to think.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Thinking brought him no more information, so he decided to go to the source. He teleported. Her room is really very small. His wardrobe is bigger than her room. There is a bed suited barely for one on one side and a chest and a desk on the other side with just enough room for one person to stand in between. The window is disproportionally large and has a sliver of a water view in the distance. There are stacks of books on every available space. Loki picks one up and he sees it’s written in a script he doesn’t know, let alone the language. He puts it back and looks at the drawings on the wall. It’s not a landscape he sees, it’s a map. She draws maps. _Mapmaker. Cartographer. Wayfinder. Guiding Light. Architect._ The words echo in his mind with an odd hum.

“What are you doing here?” She sounds from behind him, any pretense she had toward deference has gone now, in her own room. The door is closed behind her, the small room barely able to contain the both of them. He makes himself tall.

“I need to know where you’re from.” He commands. He is King, he _gets_ to command his servants. Yet it makes him feel like a bully.

“Many places.” She repeats the words she has spoken to him before.

“Yes.” He snaps. “But you, just like all of us, were born in one place. And you will tell me which one that was.” He commands her. She can lie, off course, but no one takes such care in choosing their words if they intend to lie. She is angry, he can tell. Her eyes, a bright grass green, flash and her jaw is set in a grim cant.

“Doorwerth.” She says finally. He has never heard of it and he tells her as much.

“Well, sit down.” She gestures grudgingly and he sits on the chair. Ly sits on the bed and their knees almost touch in the tiny room.

“And where is Doorwerth?” He asks further; she answers with another few words that mean nothing to him. He thinks he even detects a hint of amusement in her voice. He looks at her and she avoids looking him directly into his eyes. _Torture_. The voice suggests. _Knives and fire and ice._ The voice comes up with all sorts of way to make her talk. Simultaneously the magic presses, wanting. Loki changes tactics.

“I know you.” He states and Lyra raises an eyebrow. _Insubordinate, disrespectful.._ The voice continues.

“I should hope so.” She agrees, a sense of humour Loki realises, definitely humour. The magic around them is anticipatory, like a crowd smelling blood and chanting ‘fight, fight, fight’. Haakon claimed and Loki confirmed she has no seidr of her own, at all, yet even Lyra seems to realise its pressure. She hunched down a bit.

“I don’t know.” She says.

“Don’t know what?” He asks, it’s like pulling teeth with this woman.

“I don’t know!” She stands up in frustration and nearly knocks her head on shelf. “I think I _should_ know, but I don’t.”

“What?” Loki nearly yells. He is, clearly, not the only one that has noticed the force, the magic, but how someone without any seidr can, he doesn’t know. She glares in his direction, not servant material at all she is.

“I need to be here.” She then says. “I don’t know why, or how, or what’s happening.” Lyra stares at the map on her wall.  “But I think I once did.” She is clearly unhappy admitting this. It is the best description he’s gotten so far. There’s something he should know, and maybe he once did know, but now he doesn’t. She is lost in though and less guarded, so Loki goes back to his original question.

“You’re not from Yggdrasil.” He states, something he’s been thinking about for a while now. She doesn’t seem surprised at this at all.

“No.” She agrees and he immediately wants to ask where she’s from then, but realises she’s already told him, it just doesn’t mean anything to him. He has no concept of any realms, cities or places outside Yggdrasil.

“Is your father really a duke?” He wonders out loud.

“He was.” Lyra confirms and he sees genuine grief on her features. “And my mother was really a commoner.” Must be strange, to be a Lady first and now a servant.

“How did you get here?” He wonders. He had, a few centuries back, tried to figure out if there was life outside Yggdrasil and how to find it. It had ended rather disastrously.

“An accident. Technical failure I suppose.” Her face clouds and she anticipates his next question. “I don’t know!” She says firmly. “I’m a cartographer, I tell people where to go, which paths to take, not how to sail their boats or build their machines.” Loki thinks this over. It makes sense, one can’t know everything.

“And now you’re a cook.” Loki concludes.

“I’m a good cook.” Lyra confirms and no one, not Haakon, or Cook or anyone who has tasted her food will say otherwise. She has done nothing wrong to anyone.

“Very well.” Loki says and he gets up to leave. The space is so small that they touch when he passes her, the magic, still somewhat bloodthirsty, hums eagerly. He looks back at her.

“You have a skull.” He realises, and there is indeed a skull sitting on top of a stack of books next to a small vase of flowers.

“Head of my enemy.” She explains with a smile playing around her lips. Loki nearly laughs, but stops when the force is back. _Fight, fight, fight_. He wants her he suddenly realises, embarrassed. Or, better yet, he wants the memory of her. The one he’s forgotten.

“I know you too.” She then claims, apparently also aware somehow. Yes, he wants her, he wants what he doesn’t know she is and yet.. If she were to give any inclination, any hint.. They don’t need that much space.

“I _need_ to be here.” She says, a hint of regret in her voice. “I need this job.” Yes, sordid affairs with servants are a bad idea. A really bad one. He doesn’t even know her, not really. Certainly not enough to make any promises. And she could still be a very skillful enemy.

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Goodnight.” He makes himself invisible and disappears.


End file.
